


Kittens

by MlleMusketeer



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Alien reproductive biology, Awkward Conversations, Awkwardness, Fluff and Crack, Humor, M/M, Mechpreg, Sparklings, awkward laundry situations, experiments gone wrong, hiding things from parents, shrink ray
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:01:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2360477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MlleMusketeer/pseuds/MlleMusketeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Optimus returns earlier than expected for medical reasons, resulting in above all unpleasant experiences for absolutely everyone. </p><p>(Cade/Optimus if you squint, which Tessa is. Hey, given the opportunity to have Optimus Prime as a stepparent, you would too...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

To be fair, responsibility for Tessa’s unpleasant and above all _memorable_ morning was equally divided among three parties: her father (normal cause of calamities), Optimus Prime (after recent events, tied for second place with Shane), and Megatron (still somewhat below her history teacher, but rising fast). Responsibility was divided as follows:

1\. Dad, for building a working shrink ray.

2\. Dad, for leaving said shrink ray plugged in and on the workshop bench, where a careless Cybertronian might knock it over. 

3\. Dad, again, for having a giant robot boyfriend—dammit Dad he totally is your boyfriend!

4\. Said giant robot boyfriend (Optimus Prime) for arriving home from his mission with little warning.

5\. Optimus Prime, again, for somehow neglecting to inform his tiny human boyfriend (Dad) or said boyfriend’s family (Tessa) or his team (the bunch of assholes camped in the back field drinking all the motor oil) that he was pregnant.

6\. Optimus Prime, for having really bad taste in other giant robots.

7\. And, for that matter, a really bad understanding of the uses of dryers.

8\. Megatron, for knocking Optimus Prime up.

 

* * *

 

Tessa’s morning started as most mornings did. Get out of bed. Take a longer shower than you probably should, given the bills. Dress. Wander around and enjoy the all-too-infrequent quiet while Dad, Shane, and all the Cybertronians were still asleep. Make coffee for everyone. End up drinking it all. Remember you left the laundry in the dryer last night, and that pretty much every other clean bra you own is in there. Grumble and start pot #2 of coffee, eat pop-tart cold because you’re too lazy to put it in the toaster. Go check dryer while pot #2 is percolating.

Open dryer, stick hand inside without looking, because what else would be in there besides clothes?

Things NOT in the usual morning routine: 

Encounter something sticky.

Hear shrieking. 

Yank hand back to find it covered in multicolored viscous fluid that smells like one of Dad’s experiments gone really wrong.

Throw dryer door open to find Dad’s fucking robot boyfriend in the CLEAN FUCKING LAUNDRY covered in GOD KNOWS WHAT. 

AND LIKE TWENTY TINY ROBOTS.

Dad’s Fucking Robot Boyfriend (who is somehow a foot tall and home way earlier than he said he should be) makes noises like a trashcan being thrown down the stairs and gestures at you in what should be a threatening manner if he wasn’t obviously too exhausted to sit up and wasn’t on top of that one lacy bra that you don’t want Dad to know about.

“Speak English!”

More trashcan noises. 

Great, so he doesn’t feel like it. Way to be mature.

One thing left to do. 

“DAD,” bellowed at the top of your lungs. You can hear the other Cybertronians wake up at the scream, stumble into motion. Things fall off shelves. They probably think there’s an emergency. “DAAAAD YOUR FUCKING BOYFRIEND HAD KITTENS IN THE CLEAN LAUNDRY I AM _NOT CLEANING THIS UP._ ”

“HE’S NOT MY BOYFRIEND,” bellowed from upstairs, counterpoint from the dryer, probably the same thing but Cybertronian. 


	2. Chapter 2

“Young lady, I expect _answers_.” Dad dangles the bra between his thumb and forefinger like he thinks it’s going to bite. “What _is_ this?”

“You’ve seen a bra before, Dad,” you say. The rest of the laundry pile is on the table. Optimus hunkers in the middle, muttering to himself, the babies around him peeping like distressed chicks. 

“Yeah, but what are _you_ doing wearing _this?_ You are _way_ too young for this!”

A plan forms. Not a good one. You go with it anyway. “Who said it was mine?”

There’s a sudden silence. 

“Then whose is it?” says Dad, carefully neutral, bra still hooked over one finger.

“Optimus’s,” you say.

Optimus lifts his head. You can’t tell if he’s more offended by the blatancy of the lie, or by the implications. Either way, there’s one seriously pissed robot mom on the table. 

Dad looks at Optimus, then at you. “Seriously?”

“You’re one to talk! Your fucking boyfriend—” (chorus, human and Cybertronian _Not my fucking boyfriend!)_ “—had kittens in the dryer and all you can think about is the bras he had them on? _Dad!_ ” You turn to Shane who’s being useless by the coffee machine. “Shane, back me up here?”

“I do not for a moment believe that that is Optimus’s,” he says, pointing at the bra. “Hot pink is definitely _not_ his color.”

“I dunno, it doesn’t clash too badly with the red,” puts in Hound from the kitchen window. 

Lawnmower-meeting-a-rake noises from Optimus. Crosshairs bursts out laughing. Hound retreats. 

“What did he say?”

“That he hoped we’d believe he had better taste,” says Crosshairs. “Less lace. And aren’t we getting off subject?”

“Young lady—” says Dad. 

“Don’t you dare young lady me,” you snap. “This is _not_ about me. This is not about the bra. This is about the fact you _shrank your boyfriend and his babies_.”

Optimus folds his arms and nods. 

“But this is totally inappropriate!”

_“THAT_ is totally inappropriate!” you say, jabbing a finger at Optimus. “Also, what the fuck is your problem? Every mess you get us into you try and distract everyone by making it about _me having sex._ You don’t give _him_ shit for it!”

“Hey,” says Crosshairs, pushing his big metal nose up against the window. “Uh, don’t they kind of look like… you know… Megatron?”

There’s this sudden silence. Optimus looks like he wants to burrow back into the pile of bras. 

Drift nudges Crosshairs out of the window. “They certainly do. Optimus?”

Optimus frowns at them. But somehow dignified Primely glaring doesn’t quite do the trick when you’re sitting in a pile of bras. 

“You _didn’t_ ,” says Drift. 

Optimus looks away. He sort of leans back toward the pile, like it’s dragging him in. He mutters something.

“I can’t believe this,” says Crosshairs. “You fucked Megatron.”

Optimus’s eyes flash and he snaps something, jabbing a finger at Crosshairs.

“No, I will not watch my language! _You fucked Megatron._ ”

Optimus puts in another comment. 

“For peace? What are you gonna do, make him pay child support— Well if I’ve spent too long on Earth, it’s _your fucking fault, Optimus!_ Don’t you _dare_ lecture me about that! Megatron!”

“Wait wait wait,” says Dad, finally catching up. “Optimus, is this true? Am I hearing this right?”

Optimus folds his arms and that glare at least has more effect on Dad than on the Autobots. 

“See,” you say to Optimus, “this is why you should have backed me up on the bra thing. Dad freaking out is _really annoying_.”

“You had sex with Megatron,” says Dad.

Optimus sort of shrugs and looks away. 

“Do not give me that,” says Dad. “I get that from Tessa. No, really, I need to get this straight. You had sex with Megatron. Like big, metal, trying to take over the world, Megatron. Who you had sex with.”

Optimus actually facepalms. 

Dad sort of stares at him for a few seconds. Then, “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

Optimus doesn’t look up from the facepalm. 

“No, seriously, why didn’t you tell me about your _literally evil_ ex. Like, this is not the sort of thing you keep quiet about. Neither is _being pregnant_. I thought we had a trusting relationship here.”

“Oh so you do have a relationship,” you mutter.

“Not the time, Tessa,” snaps Dad. “Optimus, seriously? You didn’t tell me this. This is kind of big.”

Optimus says something into his palm. 

“He says, you didn’t tell me about the shrink ray,” says Drift. “He has a point.”

“Well, he didn’t tell me about how he was fu—how he was having sex with Decepticons,” says Dad. 

“Yeah well, you’re going to shit a brick when you find out about all the skeletons in _Drift’s_ closet,” says Crosshairs, and his face vanishes as Drift hauls off and socks him, hard. 

“What was that?” says Dad.

“Nothing,” says Drift. 

“No, seriously, I feel like you guys are keeping secrets here. We’re all one big family. _Families don’t lie to each other.”_

Optimus still hasn’t looked up. 

“I mean, you’ve got your majorly bad taste in men,” says Dad to Optimus, who actually groans in exasperation, “And then there’s whatever your deal is, and then Tessa…”

“Look,” you say, “this is _not_ about me. Also, you left the shrinkray out. This is so your fault.”

“No one tells me anything,” says Dad.

“Well duh,” mutters Shane.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” says Shane, doesn’t manage innocent nearly as well as Drift did. 

“No, it’s not ‘nothing’, young man!” Dad stands up. “You better respect me while you’re under MY roof, eating MY FOOD—!”

Optimus looks like he’s going to start yelling, and something in the backyard goes boom. 

“Oh shit,” says Hound, who can see over the roof of the house. “Uh. Optimus. We’ve got company.”


	3. Chapter 3

You run out of the house onto the lawn and oh shit there’s Megatron.

Dad’s shouting about a shotgun. Fat lot of good that’ll do him. Optimus and the babies are in Hound’s hands, and Optimus yells something at Hound, who drops them near Dad’s workshop and then pulls out a gun.

Megatron—Galvatron, whatever the hell he’s called right now— looks down at all of you and laughs. 

A lot. Oh man. He’s probably got his buddies here too. 

Dad and his shotgun aren’t gonna do jack shit.

But there is something that can.

You sprint for the workshop, dive inside, slam the doors. A second later, they shake. 

There’s sad peeping noises. Optimus stands with his back against the worktable and the sparklings behind him, with a determined expression and a teensy sword upraised. You abruptly feel really bad for him, squish the feeling because that is not useful right now, and go for the shrink ray. It’s knocked over on the floor from Optimus’s earlier escapades. You scoop it up and pray that it’s still working. 

Optimus is staring at you. So are the babies. You can’t tell if he’s scared or not, but you say, “It’s gonna be okay,” anyway, and sprint out the side door and onto the lawn. 

Roar behind you. You spin on the ball of your foot and level the gun at Megatron and pull the trigger.

He vanishes. 

Crosshairs, who just jumped at him, describes a lovely arc and goes face flat in the lawn. 

There’s a mini world-destroying bellow of rage from somewhere in the zucchini. You got dad’s curiosity, but not his idiocy, so you go and look with the shrink ray in one hand and a laundry basket in the other. Megatron launches himself out of the zucchini and slams into your shin, bounces off and sits on his ass in the grass looking massively confused. 

You drop the basket over him and sit on it. “DAAAD!” you call. Dad pokes his head up from the porch, where he was hiding. “DAD I DEFEATED MEGATRON.”

The laundry basket snarls. _No you didn’t, meatbag._ You don’t need Hound’s translation for that. 

Dad comes out of the barn, Optimus balancing on his upturned hands. “Tessa, get away from that, it’s dangerous!”

“It’ll be a lot more dangerous if he’s tearing around the lawn, Dad!” Optimus says something that sounds like a garbage can being kicked that you’re pretty sure is supporting you. He hops down, strides up to the basket—you schooch over out of his way—and starts yelling. 

“I didn’t think Optimus even _knew_ that word,” says Crosshairs, impressed. 

“What are they saying?” says Dad, confused. 

“Child support,” says Crosshairs. “See, all my ideas are good.”

Chorus from Optimus and Megatron. _No they aren’t!_

“Oh, so they’re agreeing on something,” says Drift. “There’s a start.”

 


End file.
